60,000,000 ways to die
Choose one.
This is a solar thing, like 2% hope, on ice,
with your Molotov Self
on all the tangible gone off away air mattress.
Hope, no throat,
drained of all its butterscotch.
Cool arm siphoned of its red trickle through a keyhole.
Fragile in the suck of every day toward the sun,
"Keep sticking the fuck up",
Hung on the metal between two passing checks,
beside a low fire of the worst-case scenarios.
Staring at the stalk of a dead plant deaf,
singing, "Material Girl," Singing, "Fame,"
Singing, "A hard days' night."
Singing, "60,000,000 ways to die choose one."
By bill, by car, by arm, by come, by gun, by mic,
By friend, by egg, by bill, by song, by dog,
By art, by book, by hype, by death,
By lung, by wing, by hope, by dream, by why?, by band"¦